


Cybertronian Archive

by wanderstar



Category: Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers: Prime
Genre: Gen, LIKE REALLY OLD FICS, One Shot Collection, archiving old fics
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-09
Updated: 2018-12-09
Packaged: 2019-09-14 19:03:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 4,571
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16918563
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wanderstar/pseuds/wanderstar
Summary: An archive of various one shot fanfictions, written while Transformers Prime was still airing.1. Speculation/Alternate version of Knock Out's reactions in The Human Factor2. Knock Out interrogates Smokescreen, speculation after Hard Knocks3. Dreadwing and terrorcon Skyquake4. Wheeljack rescues Ratchet from a destroyed Autobot base, speculation before the season 2 finale5. Cleaning day in Knock Out's quarters





	1. And then he Snapped

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An alternate version of Knock Out’s meeting with Breakdown in “The Human Factor”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A quick caveat that all of these fics are VERY OLD and were written while the show was still airing (around six years ago), and were mostly speculative on future episodes. As such, canon divergent/AU, and not reflective of my current writing. (I'm moving these here from tumblr in case things go boom.)

“Knock Out. You are needed in the bridge.”

The medic paused in his work, digits sliding past each other as a small growl built in his voice box. This was the third time he had been interrupted today. How in the pit was he supposed to get anything done if they kept giving him the work of two? Still... it would do him no good to incur Megatron’s wrath.

“Understood Lord Megatron,” he replied over the com, voice strained.  Setting down his tools he quickly brushed off his shoulder and exited the medical bay, passing various vehicons as he walked down the halls. Apparently news of what was going on had started to filter down into the ranks, because every step of the way Knock Out found himself bombarded by chatter.

“Didn’t think he’d be back.”

 “Never heard the voice before.”

“There’s something wrong with his optic.”

“Only looks like him apparently.”

“Weird seeing Breakdown like that.”

“ _What did you say?_ ”

The last vehicon to speak jumped as he found the ship’s medic looming over him, a dangerous look flickering in the red con’s optics. “Uh... decepticon got picked up. Looks like Breakdown but not acting like him. He’s in the bridge with Lord Megatron,” the vehicon replied, flinching as the medic drew back.

“... I see.” Knock Out said. Turning on one foot he continued down the corridor without another word. After he was gone the vehicons looked at each other, just one quiet phrase now heard in the hall.

“Uh oh.”

\---

 After hearing what the vehicons had said in the hall, Knock Out wasn’t quite sure what he was going to find when he came to the bridge, but he certainly hadn’t been expecting _this_. The medic stared in horror at the mech before him. The paint - awful! Those welding marks were so _crude_ , and they were everywhere! By the All Spark what was up with that optic?! He was... He was...

“You’re _wrecked_!” Knock Out blurted out. Megatron raised an eyebrow at being interrupted in such a way, but it was “Breakdown” who responded first.

“Appearances are secondary to function, and I assure you, I am quite functional at the moment.”

Knock Out stared, unable to respond. The voice was just _wrong_ , and saying all the wrong things. It wasn’t Breakdown, but then why did it look exactly like him?

“Knock Out,” Megatron said. The medic didn’t hear him. “KNOCK OUT!” he snarled.

“Y-yes Lord Megatron?”

The red con cursed mentally. Of course he’d had to go and get Megatron mad at him too.

“Take our “new” arrival to the medical bay and give him a thorough examination. I need him in peak condition for any future missions.”

“... understood Master,” he said, turning to Breakdown with a bored expression on his face. “Come on, you - ”

 _Know the way_ he had been about to say, but this not-Breakdown didn’t know, did he. An awkward pause permeated the bridge before the medic finally coughed out a stiff “Follow me,” gesturing over his shoulder and stalking down the hall.

\---

“You really are a mess,” Knock Out said with disgust as he got a closer look at the damage, cringing as ran a servo over one of the weld marks. “Seriously, what is with this? The workmanship is complete scrap!” Sure, sometimes he left patients mutilated, but at least he made sure they _looked_ good! A long stare was the only reply he received, and by that damned right optic of all things. “Do you need to stare like that? It’s giving me the creeps,” he snapped, but the patient remained silent. “Fine then,” he said grumpily, turning back to his work as a small shiver ran down his back.

Out of all the flaws in the mech’s appearance, the optic was by far the worst. Knock Out remembered working on Breakdown’s optic after it had been butchered by those humans, putting the optic patch over the gaping hole that was beyond repair. The hole on this mech’s face was in the same place and the same size, and looked like someone had simply removed Breakdown’s optic patch to reveal a new optic.

The similarities were almost too precise, could it... no. Breakdown was dead, and even though he knew of terrorcons, he had never heard of a cybertronian maintaining a consciousness after revival, let alone a completely different one. The thought still lodged in his head however, a cold lump weighing on his mind.

“Alright, external check over done,” the medic said, not so secretly glad to get his servos away from the mutilated chassis. “Let me get the scanner set up for the internal check.”

\---

“Are you sure Knock Out will be able to do his job with this patient?” Dreadwing asked Megatron as the two of them walked towards the medical bay. Even if it wasn’t really Breakdown, the similarity was still enough to be unsettling. It had unsettled him at least, and he had no idea how it was affecting Knock Out.

“As our medic Knock Out will do his job,” Megatron responded, making it clear that he wasn’t going to take any excuses just because of how the patient looked. If Megatron wanted a job done, it was going to get done. Period.

“Of course,” Dreadwing said, the two of them now only a few yards from the med bay door. “Your - ”

**_“THE FRAG IS THIS?!”_ **

Dreadwing’s optics widened. That scream had come from the medical bay. The flyer ran the last few feet to the door, Megatron following behind in almost casual fashion.  Dreadwing called out. “Knock Out - !”

The medic was on the opposite side of the med bay, servos over mouth as violent tremors shook his body. A path of destruction to his current position spoke of a hasty flight, and his eyes were completely fixated on something across the room. Dreadwing followed his gaze... and immediately understood the severe reaction. On the display screen was an internal read out for Breakdown, but with one very disturbing addition – the body of a human nestled inside, wired up every which way to the chassis and neural net. This mech wasn’t an imitation. This was Breakdown, his body at least, and somehow a human was using the corpse for himself.

“I didn’t realize my current reality would cause such a reaction in your medic,” the human using Breakdown’s  body said to Dreadwing and Megatron, his voice amused. He turned his gaze to Dreadwing, who, along with Knock Out, had missed the original greeting he had given to Megatron and Soundwave. “I am Silas, and I look forward to joining you in the decepticon ranks.”

Dreadwing just looked at this “Silas,” stunned. He couldn’t respond, not right now. The flyer looked back towards Knock Out, only to find that the red con had disappeared in his short time of looking away. It was at this moment that a notice came in over the com link to both him and Megatron.

“Sir, there’s been an... incident.”

\---

Megatron looked critically at the scene before him, a collection of vehicons behind him trembling and huddled together, while Soundwave stood beside him as silent as ever. Slumped against the wall was a vehicon. A very _dead_ vehicon. Across the chest ran a ragged diagonal gash ran all the way from shoulder to hip, so deep that it had nearly cut vehicon in half. The head, partially severed by the cut, hung limply to the side. On the wall above was a grotesque fan of splattered energon, the rest of the energon pooling beneath the vehicon and gradually seeping towards Megatron’s feet.

“Would anyone care to tell me what happened?” the decepticon leader drawled, turning around to look at the vehicons. A few stepped back without even thinking, but one finally spoke up. “I-it was Knock Out sir,” he said, voice shaking. “The other guy didn’t say or do anything, h-he just... didn’t get out of the way fast enough...” Megatron looked back to the corpse, then to Soundwave.

“Clear the halls in Knock Out’s path,” he said, Soundwave nodding in response. “And be sure he doesn’t run into any insecticons.”

“I would prefer to not have any more... messes.”


	2. Please Leave a Message After the Tone

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> While interacting with the prisoner, Knock Out makes an interesting discovery.

_“Wakey wakey~”_

Knock Out laughed as the autobot woke and recoiled from his face, the young bot already jerking against his restraints. A futile effort, but amusing none the less.

He walked away from the berth, making a show of looking at his instruments. “Hm... how shall we begin?” The medic ran his digits over a tray of blades for effect, tapping lightly at the edge. “Small scale examination? Or...” he lifted his arm and whipped out his buzzsaw, the sound filling the medical bay. “A more direct approach?”

“Nice try,” the autobot shot back sarcastically, though Knock Out could still see him struggling against his cuffs. “A few sharp objects aren’t going to get me talking.”

“In due time autobot,” Knock Out said, withdrawing the saw and making a dismissive gesture. “But you mistake my intent.” He leaned over and slipped a digit under the bot’s chin, who gritted his tooth plates in response. “At the moment, I am much more interested in _you_.”

“...you always this needy?” the bot said, twisting his head away and giving a sideways look with his optics. The red con froze, his servos just barely moving before he straightened up and gave a roaring laugh.  “Oh you are rich!” he said, just barely keeping himself dissolving into more laughter upon seeing the autobot’s confused face. “You really have no clue, do you?”

This time it took longer for the prisoner to respond, him trying (and failing) to hide his confusion before speaking. “I know that you’re a creep.”

Knock Out waved him off. “Small concern.” Cocking a hip, Knock tapped his chin as he thought, his other servo resting comfortably in his elbow. Did the prisoner really not know what he was? He could always be bluffing, and yet his confusion a few moments before had seemed a bit too genuine. Time for a little experiment.

“Been on earth for awhile autobot?” Only a glare in response.

“Ah, a newcomer.” Another glare.

“I’ll just assume you’re new,” the medic said with a shrug, unconcerned about the lack of confirmation. The goal here wasn’t technical information. It was _reaction_.

“I know I haven’t seen you around at least,” he drawled, picking up his data pad and dragging a digit across the surface. Casually dropping it by his side to hide the mental activity readout now showing, the red con smirked. “But I am honored to finally be in your illustrious presence,” he said mockingly, giving the bot a dramatic bow.

This time the reaction was much more severe, complete with increased struggling and bared tooth plates, plus a nice spike in the mental readout. Oho! Seems like he’d hit a sore spot.

“Not that you could tell a prime from an insecticon,” The bot shot back, trying to calm his reaction when he realized how intensely the red con was looking at him. Once again, he failed.

The corner of Knock Out’s mouth twitched at that particular jab, but he hid it much better than the autobot. He needed to gather their reactions, not his own. Tapping a few notes into the data pad he took a long look at the bot, enjoying how the prisoner squirmed under his gaze. “So mundane! I expected something _special_ after hearing about you.”

“Stick it up your tailpipe con! You’re not getting anything!” There was no attempt in hiding his anger this time.

Knock Out leaned in until he was only inches away from the bot’s face, his grin wide. “Who said we don’t already have what we need?” He held a digit over one of the blue optics, the autobot flinching away from the point and hitting his head on the medical berth. Chuckling, the medic withdrew, taking another glance at the data pad. Looking back up he found the young bot still angry, but now with a good deal of curiosity showing on his face.

“I... I don’t follow,” the bot said, voice stilted. Curiosity had won out.

“Think about it kid,” Knock Out said, digits curling as he held a servo in the air. “What has everyone been searching for and fighting over?”

The autobot hesitated in responding, but relented when he realized the medic wasn’t going to continue without him. “... the relics?”

“Oh bravo!” the red con said, clapping a few times with the data pad held to the side. “Now, think a bit harder. Here’s a hint – what did I say I was interested in when we started?”

“...me? But...” the bot trailed off for a moment before his optics widened. “Are you saying - ”

Knock Out looked over, waiting for bot to resume speaking... but then something _else_ happened.

With no prior warning the autobot’s body went rigid, mouth frozen and optics flickering madly. The medic snapped the data pad up to his face to check the mental readout, only to find it had gone, well, mental. He had never seen a readout like this; there weren’t just spikes, it almost looked like shapes, maybe even cybertronix. But they never stayed long enough for him to see for sure.

Knock Out could only watch slack jawed as both the optic flickering and mental readout got more and more frantic; he half expected smoke to start pouring off their cranium. Just as he was about to induce stasis the mental readout turned into a solid mass, the optics giving one last bright flash. Finally, the body went limp.

Motion returned to limbs almost immediately, the bot struggling at the restraints as the optics glowed back to life to... glare at him?

“Stick it up your tailpipe con! You’re not getting anything!”

The medic simply stared, then started typing frantically on his data pad.

 _Intriguing_.

Knock Out ignored an angry “Hey!” from the autobot, now more concerned with the data he had already gathered. Just one more test was needed to confirm his theory.

Looking over the data pad, he decided to go ahead and save some time. “You’re the final relic kid,” he said bluntly.

“Huh? What are you - ” the bot froze, same reaction starting all over again.

The red con induced stasis before the autobot went any farther, watching as the optics dimmed and the body relaxed. He wasn’t in the mood to hear the young bot repeating himself again, there was enough of that sort of thing with Soundwave around.

Walking over to the other side of the medical bay Knock Out tapped out the last few notes he needed, letting himself indulge in a smile.

 _Most intriguing indeed_.

“Lord Megatron,” he said into his comlink. “I have an... _interesting_ discovery to report.”


	3. Forgive Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In exchange for The Forge of Solus Prime, Dreadwing convinces the Autobots to help him get his brother out of the Shadow Zone. However, things do not end well.

“I’m opening the groundbridge.”

Dreadwing’s fist clenched as the autobot medic’s words came over the comlink, the flyer gazing down the canyon before him. So much had been lost in these past few hours, so much he could never regain, but there was at least one thing left he could do.

A forge in exchange for a brother. That was all he had asked.

“Understood,” he replied curtly over the link. There was a brief pause on the other end. “... good luck,” the medic said, and then the link went dead.

Silence. A flash of green, and the groundbridge vortex bloomed before him. At first its faint roar was all that could be heard, but soon there was something... else. The creaking of metal. A chilling moan. Feet dragging across the ground.

Unconsciously Dreadwing shifted into a fighting stance, tooth plates clenching, but nothing, not even all his time fighting in the war, could have prepared him for what he saw next. Emerging from the groundbridge was a hunched and terrible form, gait shuffling and right arm conspicuously absent.

“Brother...?”

Skyquake, body ravaged and optics flickering purple, turned towards the new source of sound. Caught off guard by the stare Dreadwing stepped back, waiting to see how his twin would react. Unfortunately for him, the reaction was... poor.

Roaring the terrorcon lurched forward, pointed digits swiping at the blue flyer’s chest. Dreadwing skipped back, dodging the strike, but it was a near thing as a trio of scratches was left on his cockpit.

“Brother! Stop this!” The cry went unheard as he avoided another strike, grunting as a digit bit into his side. He searched his spark, sought to feel anything from the connection with his twin, but there was nothing. Weapons still undrawn he danced around the once green flyer, face contorting into rage. That low life traitor had done this to his brother, desecrating his grave and forcing him to his will, all for his own twisted desires. He would never forgive him. Never.

Absorbed in his thoughts Dreadwing failed to see the next blow and his right arm was captured into a death grip. Giving a bellow the flyer was dragged to the ground, his brother clawing into his chassis and biting into an energon line, the blue fluid splattering onto the ground. With a scream of pain he bashed desperately against the terrorcon’s head until finally it released, energon dripping from its mouth as it gave a slow hiss. Kicking Skyquake away he scrambled to his feet, drawing his sword and baring his tooth plates, body shaking from both anger and his injuries. Damn those who had caused this to happen. Damn them all!

When further attacks came Dreadwing once again tried to dodge, but his injuries were slowing him too much and he had to settle for parrying with his sword. On his third parry he sliced a digit off of Skyquake’s servo, but instead of remaining still on the ground it began to wriggle towards him. Horrified, Dreadwing stomped it into the ground, energon from his wounds dripping into the dirt nearby. On the next strike half of the servo was severed, it also weakly crawling towards him before he stabbed it through with his sword. Piece by severed piece this macabre trend continued, the flyer having to systematically destroy each fragment that was cut off his brother. Soon Skyquake was left without any arms at all, but still he tried to attack, lurching forward and swinging his body toward his twin.

Dreadwing backed away, sword held in both servos and misery showing clearly on his face. This had to end. Head bowed he gave a shuddering breath, clutching his sword tight.

“Forgive me, brother.”

Right as the terrorcon was about to bowl into him the flyer’s sword flashed up, driving into Skyquake’s cockpit and chest with a screeching  crunch. His twin gave a strangled gurgle, flailing weakly on the sword as Dreadwing’s red optics stared back, never looking away. Withdrawing the sword he quickly dismembered his brother, no longer only trying to defend himself and therefore making short work of his undead opponent. Closing his optics he paused, then made the final blow, severing the head.

It rolled away into the dirt and the purple optics finally dimmed, fading to black.

Sinking to the ground Dreadwing drove the point of his sword into the dirt, resting his forehead on the pommel as his servos gripped the hilt. For a long time he remained there, silent and unmoving outside of the energon leaking from his wounds, the world around fading into night.

“Forgive me.”


	4. Party Crashers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With the Autobot base destroyed, the Decepticons think they no longer have to worry about the Autobots. However, they have failed to consider a certain ornery medic and explosives happy Wrecker.

The explosion ripped through the wall of the base, knocking Ratchet flat on his back. Whipping out one of his blades he fought to get to his feet, desperate to figure out what was going on and ready to defend himself. Before he could manage this however a second explosion tore through the surroundings, over loading his senses with both sound and heat. He had to get up, he had to save the base, he had to - !

Ratchet jolted awake, finding himself starting at the ceiling of... The Jackhammer?

“Well, look who’s finally come around!”

The medic turned to look at Wheeljack, who, to Ratchet’s indignation, was giving him a grin that was entirely too cheeky. His own face settled into a scowl in return. “Wheeljack? What in Primus’ name is going on here?! Take me back to base!”

The Wrecker’s smile vanished. “Sorry doc, no can do.” He turned back to the view port, hands guiding the ship controls. “The place is gone. Blown to smithereens.”

Ratchet stared, part of him unwilling to believe what he was hearing. “... you can’t be serious.”

“More serious than a Prime,” Wheeljack said grimly, mouth firming into a hard line. “You’re lucky I was nearby, don’t think you would’ve made it otherwise.”

“Wait, how did you - ”

Wheeljack barked a laugh. “You think I didn’t know what was going on? Just because you stop talking to me doesn’t mean I’m gonna ignore the war! Been keeping an eye on things while you guys were running around.” He paused, face darkening. “Though I would’ve appreciated a notice about your little mission to Cybertron.”

Ratchet bristled. “Well, maybe you should have thought about that before you - !”

“Save it!” the Wrecker said, raising a hand and cutting him off. “I’m sure you could go on for cycles about that, but right now, we have bigger things to deal with.”

It was at this point that Ratchet noticed just how high they were in the clouds, and they were still climbing. He looked back over to Wheeljack, optics narrowing. “What exactly are you going after?”

“Starscream,” he said simply, pulling back on the controls. “He’s one of the main guys that attacked the base. Can’t really get to Cybertron, so doing the next best thing.”

Ratchet frowned, uncertain if this really was the best thing, then stopped. “...actually,” he said, his new situation and its resources dawning on him, “I don’t think Cybertron is out of the question.”

This time it was Wheeljack’s turn to look over. “Oh?”

“The Decepticon space bridge is currently far out in orbit,” the medic said, recalling the location of the energon surge, “and is controlled by their warship.” He curled a servo around his chin, thinking. “Normally it would be out of our reach, but The Jackhammer eliminates that problem. And with most of crew on Cybertron...”

“... there’s almost no one left to guard the thing,” Wheeljack finished, mouth twisting into a grin. “I _like_ where this is going.” Throttling the controls he sent The Jackhammer into a steeper climb, pushing both of them back into their seats.

Ratchet gripped the arms of his seat at the sudden acceleration. “Whoa whoa whoa! Shouldn’t we work things out a little more?!”

Wheeljack shrugged. “Why? It’s a good plan, and it’s still gonna be awhile before we arrive. We can figure out the details on the way.” Ratchet’s grip tightened as the ship entered some turbulence and he clenched his tooth plates. “I hope you know what you’re doing,” he muttered.

“Don’t you worry sunshine, there’s nothing like a Wrecker for this kind of mission,” Wheeljack said cheerfully, grinning as he heard Ratchet grumble at the nickname. “Seriously though, I know what I’m doing. Been doing this kind of thing as long as I can remember.” Leveling out the ship for a moment he put it on autopilot, getting up and walking towards the back. Ratchet turned around to watch, and he wasn’t surprised when the Wrecker came back carrying a case of grenades. He was surprised by what happened next however.

“Catch!” The medic just barely caught the bundle of grenades  Wheeljack had thrown towards him, and he looked back incredulously. “Why...?”

“You’re coming with me, aren’t you?”

Ratchet opened his mouth, ready to give the response he had resigned himself to over many stellar cycles, but stopped. The autobot base was gone. There was nothing left for him to watch over, no reason for him to stay behind. Right now, at this moment, he had the chance to get out there, to help the team... and maybe even the possibility of kicking some aft. He actually had the chance to do this.

“Of course I’m coming!” he said hotly, and Wheeljack laughed in response. “That’s the spirit!”

Climbing into his seat the Wrecker returned The Jackhammer to its climb, and before long the clouds parted, revealing the expanse of space to both of them.

“Alright, Ratchet,” Wheeljack said, grin spreading wide across his face.

“We’ve got ourselves some Cons to meet.”


	5. Pristine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A look at Knock Out’s quarters on cleaning day.

Knock Out wiped the rag along the edge of his berth, humming as he eradicated every last bit of dirt. Sometimes after he finished with his own maintenance he would go over his quarters, and today was one of those days. A beautiful mech required a beautiful living space after all.

Satisfied with that section of metal the medic moved on to dusting one of the shelves. Lifting each object as he went he swiped the rag across the expanse, kicking up small clouds of dust that were illuminated by the energon light lining the back. In the middle off this a certain bleach white item caught the con’s optic. Smiling, he played with it between his digits before setting it back down, giving a tap to the metal plate on its crown. A few more swipes and there, done with the shelf.

Tossing the rag in with his other cleaning supplies Knock Out picked up a buffer, revving it a couple times in preparation. Convinced that it was in working order he went over to the wall. Over the cycles the metal had dimmed, and while relatively minor it nagged at the medic. Most of his contemporaries didn’t even notice this sort of thing. Cringe worthy, really. Moving in slow circles he worked the buffer against the metal, the device thrumming as it polished it to a gleam. He then went past that point, continuing until it sparkled under the light lines running through the wall. Perfect.

He traced his digits down the metal, admiring the little flecks of light that were tossed around just from that small contact. He would never let it decay again; the results today were just too wonderful. Pulling his servo back he ran his digits past each other, thinking of what he needed to do next. Ah. That was right. Time for a little indulgence.

The items picked up next were an energon cube and detailing cloth. Knock Out strode around the room, sipping from the cube and checking what areas need just a little more work. A corner between tables got a quick swipe. One of his racing souvenirs was poured over, his pointed digits working to push the cloth into every small crack. This routine continued until he was down to his last bit of energon, digits lit by its uneasy glow. Tapping the cube to release the last few drops he looked around the room, surveyed his work, and relaxed.

Finally, his quarters were pristine.

Humming once again the medic gathered up his supplies and exited the room, the door closing behind him with a click. Shining metal faded as lights dimmed, their lines tracing back to the far wall.

The large blue mech slumped over, gaping hole in his chest and rust colored stains splattered across him and the wall. He almost could have been in recharge otherwise. The form was bathed in the soft glow, peaceful, and the lights flickered out.


End file.
